At a little after eleven the house was closed. I went round with the
landlord, and held the candle while the doors and lower windows were being
secured. I noticed with surprise the strength of the bolts, bars, and
iron-sheathed shutters.
"You see, we are rather lonely here," said the landlord. "We never have
had any attempts to break in yet, but it's always as well to be on the
safe side. When nobody is sleeping here, I am the only man in the house.
My wife and daughter are timid, and the servant girl takes after her
missuses. Another glass of ale, before you turn in?--No!--Well, how such a
sober man as you comes to be out of a place is more than I can understand
for one.--Here's where you're to sleep. You're the only lodger to-night,
and I think you'll say my missus has done her best to make you
comfortable. You're quite sure you won't have another glass of ale?--Very
well. Good night."
It was half-past eleven by the clock in the passage as we went upstairs to
the bedroom. The window looked out on the wood at the back of the house.
I locked my door, set my candle on the chest of drawers, and wearily got
me ready for bed. The bleak wind was still blowing, and the solemn,
surging moan of it in the wood was very dreary to hear through the night
silence. Feeling strangely wakeful, I resolved to keep the candle alight
until I began to grow sleepy.
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